#Long hair sniper supremacy

[ghostthecryptid]

You know, if Sniper had longer hair and was comfortable with it, I think Pyro would braid it and maybe just maybe a sticker or two finds its way into Snipers hair

If we would like to go the speeding bulleg route, Scout would try to braid it but just could not for his life figure it out. So instead he just kinda twists two or more strands together he may or may not end up tangling it and then have to detangle it and just fidgets with it.

[medics-secret-shipfic-folder]

I LOVE THE NEW CHAPTER!♥️

Really well written and love the detail!

I have to admit Hivemind is probably my favorite disciple not cause of him being evil but the concept of him is so freaking cool and makes sense in way! It's also funny cause Sniper is Australian and Hivemind has a spider henchmen.

And also long hair Cmedic supremacy!

Also my friend loved it as well!

LONG HAIR CMEDIC SUPREMACY!

Speaking of Hivemind, I've really gotta design his monster form now that its finally been revealed. I wanted it to be a surprise until then, and it seems to have worked!

Sniper would be the one to get the horrifying insect form. Resident Evil looking ass

[1-800-rui]

i'm on my knees 🙏🏼 (i was wondering how i could make poses like this)

long hair sniper supremacy

[tigerandthemagpie]

[prompt from @mathematicallyinsignificant - i want jim to have to apologize.]

"Sebastian!" Jim called, hurrying forward at an undignified pace, somewhere between a walk and a jog. Small raindrops spilled onto his face, the beginnings of a storm brewing up in the heavens. The sniper took the stairs up to the navy front door of their Mayfair flat two at a time, leaving Jim to struggle behind.

"Sebastian."

The front door slammed shut behind them, blocking out a gust of cool evening air. The bulky figure in front of Jim kept moving forward, dropping his jacket on the floor without a word. Jim didn't stop to pick it up, mouth tightening in warning. "I said, Sebastian. Hold on, will you?" Annoyance and breathlessness battled for supremacy in his voice; the other man had kept up his very brisk pace all the way from the parking garage to the flat, and Jim's legs just weren't as long as his.

Sebastian kept moving away and he kept following, past the living room and through the hallway. His silence was glaringly loud as he pushed their bedroom door open, and Jim's heart skipped a beat to see him heading straight for their closet. Panic made his voice high and flippant. "Don't be ridiculous. You have to know I wasn't actually considering it."

"Do I."

Two words were all it took for the enormity of the situation to impress itself. Sebastian's voice was deep and crisp and cold, and Jim recognized, now, the calculating stillness that took hold of his sniper in those life-or-death situations he chased so ardently.

Sebastian hadn't been fuming on the way back. He'd been thinking.

"I-- yes, of course you do." Jim's voice came out uncertain, though, as the closet doors were slid open and he yanked out a beaten-up leather suitcase with airport tags still attached.

The dialogue of possible ways to assuage his partner's anger in Jim's head stopped mid-sentence, like a switch had been flipped. "Moran." He hissed, his own brand of cold calculation taking over from the much less useful blind panic that had washed over him moments ago.

"Stop that right now. You're doing something I promise you're going to dearly regret in the future. I wouldn't have actually handed you over as part of the exchange, that would have been idiotic in the extreme--"

"Bad for business, yeah." Sebastian's voice rose slightly as he started piling garments into his luggage, movements steady and controlled. "Yeah, see, I thought so too, but then I remembered hearing my name coming from your office real early this morning, along with the others'. Big shots, a lot of our dependable allies. Then, I figured you were acting pretty weird last night, too. You were on me right as I got in, wrangling me into bed and then slinking out after. Y'know, down to your office. Sloppy of you, Jimmy. Really obvious, since you've been ignoring me for months now. And we both know," here a burst of fire broke into Sebastian's steely voice, "That you don't plan on sticking around that much longer. So I guess it probably doesn't matter much if your old henchman gets handed over to the Iceman, if it gets you a chance at Sherlock Fucking Holmes."

Jim crossed the room and sent the suitcase tumbling to the floor, not backing down when Sebastian rounded on him. His dark eyes were wide and wild, hair disarrayed from the wind outside. "You don't understand."

He braced his forearm against Sebastian's chest and pushed with all his strength, balls of his feet digging into the carpet. The larger man didn't slam against the wall so much as brush up against it, pushing back against Jim immediately. His hands encircled Jim's upper arms bruisingly tight. "Motherfucker," the blonde spat, and yes, finally, something other that damning calm.

"Will you just-- listen to me, you stupid animal-" Jim cut off as Sebastian shoved him away, managing to clear a good four feet. Nearly vibrating with frustration, Jim's first instinct was to go for the knife tucked up his left sleeve, but that wouldn't help anything at all.

Sebastian grabbed an armful of shirts and brushed past Jim to shove them in the suitcase before zipping it shut. He was really ready to leave.

"Seba..." Jim's voice caught, unbidden, in his throat. His fingers were trembling with a mix of anger, adrenaline, and suppressed fear. He couldn't believe he was allowing this to happen. "Stop it."

Hunched over the bed, Jim couldn't see his face, but for just a moment, Sebastian paused. Jim could see his fingers tighten on the handle, on the bottom. The moment stretched on for hours.

"For some reason, I really did trust you, Boss. Thought you were the real thing. Thought, you know, it was us against the shitty world instead of just me." He shook his head, still not facing Jim. "I should've known better, after all these years."

The last lights of evening shone through the large windows, pale and blue and fading. They illuminated the back of Sebastian's sweater as he left, diamond-shaped patterns stretching across a broad back Jim knew well.

His feet carried him after the retreating figure again, this time without hurry, without conscious thought. "Will you," he began again, voice tired and quiet as they reached the entryway again, "Will you please."

He took a quick step forward and reached out with a cold hand, pressing it against Sebastian's wrist. Not grabbing or pulling, just a steady pressure, and it was this that finally stopped him. Whether out of surprise or something else, Sebastian turned to face him. A meaningless little burst of hope erupted behind his ribcage. It made what he needed to say more manageable.

Still. His traitorous heart pounded in his ears. "It would have been shitty for business, yes, but worse for me. You were on the list, but it wasn't you I listed as my right hand man. It was Kiffe. And dozens of people before you. Holmes knows you're involved, that was unavoidable, but not how deeply."

Sebastian's grip on the handle loosened. "You never should've started this bloody game with him in the first place."

"Maybe not." Jim shrugged, tilting his head to the side. "Too late now. It'll be over soon enough, like you said--"

"So I should just leave now, and save myself the heartache--"

"Will you SHUT UP FOR A MOMENT? Moran! I'm leaving London, not the fucking mortal plane! And I want you to come with me."

Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth dropping open. Jim unwound his fingers from the hated suitcase, relishing the thunk it made against the hardwood. He took a deep breath. There were a lot of things that were called for tonight that he wasn't comfortable saying, but anything was better than this. "I know I've been avoiding you." He murmured, running his finger tips up Sebastian's inner wrist.

"Leaving you to figure out what's happening by yourself. It hasn't been easy, but I- shouldn't have."

Sebastian looked disbelieving. Actually, he looked he was having a mild stroke. Jim's mouth quirked. "I came to a conclusion last night. That's all. That's why I pulled you into bed and had my wicked way with you, not as a distraction. And because I hadn't had anything to do with you for weeks." Jim pressed himself against the taller man's chest, arms wrapping around his neck. Automatically, Sebastian's own arms came up around him, though his eyes were still stormy. "I know what I owe you. I know what you owe me. I want you with me, after London. What do you say?"

Sebastian scoffed, breath puffing against Jim's mouth. "I think you should have definitely told me all this shite earlier. What else was I supposed to think?" His hands moved from Jim's sides down to his hips. Jim, flooded with relief, closed his eyes. "And of course I'll come with you. Anywhere."

[vanityloves]

1⃣ and 💛 for medic (this is my comeback at u >:DDDD)

hi hello dont you love that im answering this more than a month later!! /s

word count: 868 :] bc again - i can not be quiet

[cw: mentions of eating/food, thats ab it]

1⃣ - What’s the first thing that attracted you to them?

Uhhhh Doctor aesthetic. My brain really said "You never had one of these chaotic bastards before, why don't you try it out for funnies" and then I did. Now look at the sad little man I've become /s

I'm gonna assume I thought he was physically attractive too bc Older Man, greying hair, broad shoulders. Yeah.

I honestly loved that he's just a bastard and not afraid to show it - he knows what he's about - ethics be damned I guess! My gut instinct was to say he was emotionally constipated which is actually why I started shipping with him! I thought it'd be funny if this painfully obvious, stupid sweetheart chara pines after a wacky but brilliant doctor thats denser than fruitcake who cant read the mood. I've definitely changed that up some bit but characterizing Medic as a mess emotionally wise, is still very prominent. Now it's emotionally constipated²! everyone hates that!

💛 - How do you help each other with everyday things?

I'm very soft of the idea of them waking up and getting ready together. Both go to bed late and it's usually Medic that wakes up first, which in turn makes Chef (more often times than not) get their ass up with him. Medic wakes up fairly easy; taking a moment to stretch and shake off the sleepies. Chef on the other hand has to drag themselves to a sitting up position and vibe there for a few minutes but there's a 30% chance they'll flop back down and fall back asleep if Medic doesn't come over and wake them up himself. He usually leans down to rub their arms or pat their leg, softly telling them to get ready. If he's feeling more affectionate, he'll plop himself down next to them, wrap them up in his arms, and playfully shake them awake. 

Throughout the day, Chef will pop their head into the medbay to check on him, while Medic - if he just so happens to walk past - will peek his head into the kitchen to see if Chef is still around. They don't always chat when this happens but it's a nice little reminder that the other is thinking of / looking out for them. 

Chef "nags" Medic about eating and vice versa.  Medic is typically fine when it comes to eating meals but he'll accidentally skip them when he loses track of time,  resulting in Chef badgering him to set a timer or something so he can take a break. Of course, he waves it off and laughs like 'sure jan'. Chef is just a fool and doesn't eat with the others often (especially when they first join). They tend to skip meals on purpose but also because of their forgetfulness. There's been a handful of times they've almost/fainted or whited out. Both parties make it a point to eat together if not for themselves, then for the other. 

Medic learns quickly that Chef doesn't like coffee and opts to make them tea and hot chocolate ( if supplies last ). It's not the crummy packaged one either - it's the Rich, Dense Hot Chocolate that Chef neither has the sweet tooth or the stomach for - regardless, they drink it bc it's soothing and legitimately makes Medic happy to see them enjoying something he made. 

Technically, Chef has to be awake early enough to make breakfast but that doesn't mean they're the first awake - because of this, Medic (and whoever's up first), usually gets the kitchen to himself before it gets too warm/crowded. As a bonus, he's able to get breakfast the way he wants it since there isn't 9 People Hovering over Chef. Also because we believe in Medic Supremacy in this base: 'You don't like your eggs scrambled? Sorry, you should've woken up earlier. ' *Medic sipping his coffee n minding his business*

Speaking of coffee - Chef is prone to making Medic a fresh cup throughout the day. He's not like Sniper Levels of Coffee Drinking but he definitely drinks more than the average person. He stays up late into the night when he's working on a particularly tough project and wakes up early. Chef makes it a point to scold him (even before they're together) to get more rest, all while replacing the old mug with a fresh one.

To add to that, they take comfort in being able to spend time together in silence while sharing a warm drink, especially after a long day. Medic doesn't appear to be a very stressed individual and tends to shrug off worries if possible - maybe even laugh it off or flat out ignore it. Chef comes off as stressed and (truthfully) a bit anxious. They're just in a base full of Tall Men that physically look down at them, they literally can't help it. They're pretty relaxed for the most part but huffs and sighs a lot when they're deep in thought.  Medic is sometimes (read, majority of the time) bad with emotions but will ask them 'what's wrong'. This usually results in limited talking, more silence, but then comes the physical comfort of having someone near. A comforting hand on their knee or just humming in response, confirming that he'll be there when they need him to be. That's more than enough for them. 

[a-dorin]

in my blood: yw-382

word count: 4,157

warnings: angst, death, gore, blood, alcoholism, overcoming grief

a/n: this bubba’s backstory (filled with tragedy ofc) but as always, this is one of my babies, so i loved writing about it a little too much. i hope you guys enjoy! 

summary: cooper valara was the son of guild bounty hunter, angelo valara. cooper battles with his identity, unsure of following in his father’s footsteps. after a fateful incident, he comes to term with his destiny. enlisting in the first order, he becomes yw-382, a standard stormtrooper.

present day

“you must be yw-382,” a trooper, donned in shiny, metallic armor stood before me. his armor was similar to mine, i noticed. he stretched out his hand, “i’m yo-988.”

“i’m yw-382,” i shook his hand, clearing my throat, “i presume that you’re the one who received the promotion as well?” 

yo-988 let out a laugh, “if i wasn’t, i wouldn’t be here. to answer your question though, i am.” 

yo-988 was definitely younger than i assumed. from the way my companions spoke of him, he seemed as if he would be much older, more so his late twenties or early thirties. he didn’t seem much older than sixteen, as his voice was still inflected with that of a boy. nonetheless, he towered over me by a couple of inches, and his shoulders were broad. he definitely had the capabilities to fuck someone up pretty bad if he was in combat. 

“follow me,” yo-988 motioned towards the gate with his head, “i’ll lead you to our quarters.”

“we don’t bunk with the other troopers?”

“you have a lot to learn,” he chuckled, walking at a brisk pace, “since we were promoted, we were relocated to the level where all of the other bounty hunters bunk. say goodbye to rooming with two to three other men. it’s just us in our room now. what are you, eighteen? how long have you been with the first order?”

“i am eighteen, and not long,” i mumbled, “i just graduated from the academy about two months ago.”

“and they promoted you? that’s incredible.” 

“i’m not sure why,” my voice was quiet. 

in all reality, i had no idea why i was promoted so quickly. my friends were extremely envious that i was moving up through the ranks so rapidly. a large part of me was shocked by the sudden change, as they transferred me from my home ship to the supremacy, which was the control center of the first order. commander kylo ren lived within the walls of this massive ship. just the thought of that made me shudder. 

“well,” yo-988 stopped, punching in a code on a keypad, “this is your new home, for now. we’re permanently stationed here.”

the doors opened, giving us access to our room. yo-988 sucked in a breath, “i hope you don’t mind that i took the side closest to the viewports.” 

“i prefer to stay closer to the wall anyways,” i shrugged, setting my bag down on my bed, “i don’t like hearing the speeders and cruisers at night as they pass by.”

“that’s fair,” he nodded, heading over to the doors. he closed them shut, ensuring we were out of sight, “to be honest with you, i don’t like that following the rules bullshit. i’ve always been a little bit of a rebel when it comes to rules. so, if it’s cool with you, i’m going to remove my helmet. are you gonna be a little bitch and run to phasma, telling her i broke the rules? or, are you gonna be a cool partner and take yours off too?”

i tensed as yo-988 removed the helmet off his head, setting it on his bed. copying his actions, i took off my helmet as well, putting it on my bed. he shifted, his green eyes meeting my brown ones. freckles dotted his pale cheeks, sandy blonde hair falling into his face, “by the way, i don’t go by yo-988 with the other hunters. it just makes transmissions confusing. i prefer phoenix. what about you?”

“oh,” i mumbled, “at the academy, they liked to call me ‘bubba’.”

“bubba,” phoenix repeated, a wide grin on his face, “i like that. well, bubba, we’re going to be best friends.”

four years prior

“i’m not saying you can’t shoot him. i’m just saying you can’t shoot him here,” the voice of my father rumbled from outside of the ship. 

i sat patiently, sighing to myself as my father and his coworker, dan, negotiated how we were going to dispose of our bounty. i was promised that we were going out for a supply run, not what was actually happening. since my father was apart of a bounty hunting guild, his employment consisted of capturing fugitives or whoever’s coordinates were listed on the tracking fob.

“coop’s with us,” my dad sighed, “we at least got him unconscious. we can always bring him in hot or cold. i just don’t want my boy seein’ it.”

“fine,” dan spat, “we’re goin’ two-thirds on this then. you get one third.” 

“how is that any fair?” i could hear my father’s voice rising, “we both agreed to go half!”

“oh you’re right,” dan remarked, “okay, okay, let’s go half. i want the credit for snatchin’ him, though. do we have a deal?”

“we have a deal,” my dad agreed. 

their voices drew near as they hauled the body of a species of alien on board. he was knocked out cold, cuffs around his wrists. from his blue skin, and long headtails coming from the top of his head, i figured he was twi’lek. he laid in the holding cell, in close proximity from where i was sitting, boredom filling my thoughts.

“sorry that took so long cooper,” my dad placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, “jin’aari was a bit of a fighter.”

“i swear we only shot him with the stun gun twenty-two times,” dan snorted, sliding into copilot chair, “your dad was the one who kept fuckin’ it up for us.”

“are you bringing him in hot or cold?” i mocked my father’s statement. 

“hot,” dan scoffed, punching in the coordinates of the guild headquarters, “we’d get more credits if he was dead, but your father is bein’ a wuss about it.”

“i don’t want my boy around that,” my dad’s voice was soft, full of seriousness, “bounty hunting is in our blood, but he’s a little young for that yet. his training doesn’t start till next year, when he’s fifteen.”

“i started when i was fourteen,” dan smirked, shooting me a wink, “i think you ought to start him as soon as possible. cooper, you’ll have an excellent mentor. your father is the best sniper  in our little guild. he’s not too bad when it comes to hand-on-hand combat. he has a pretty nasty right hook.”

i blinked, shooting my father a questioning look, “can i please start early, dad?”

“don’t go fillin’ his heads with ideas,” my dad grumbled, “he’s too young to begin an apprenticeship with the guild. we both know that, dan.” 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” a scream echoed through the ship. jin’aari, the prisoner, must have regained consciousness.

“you know that the guild has a bounty on your head, jin’aari,” dan looked over his shoulder, yelling in his direction.

jin’aari slammed his hands on the bars, rattling them, “i could kill both of you, daniel carr and angelo valara. i promise you that, angelo. your boy can watch as i strangle you to death, then rip your head off, blood spurt-”

“you ain’t gonna do shit,” dan narrowed his eyes, “it’s three against one.”

“i favor those odds,” jin’aari sneered, anger blazing in his eyes. 

“shut the fuck up,” my dad growled, his tone furious. 

jin’aari’s tough guy act crumbled, and he sat down on the bench in the cell, letting out a long sigh, “i have a family, ya know. i always despised living as a smuggler, as i was always up and moving. my wife is going to fret when i don’t come back. i was supposed to be back home, now. she’s probably pacing back and forth, pondering my location.”

“yet you’re a criminal,” scorn was laced in my father’s voice, “you’ve spilled blood, jin’aari. there’s too much blood for you to clean up now. you have to be a man and face the consequences instead of running away from them.”

“don’t you have a slightest bit of compassion?” jin’aari challenged, “your son is sitting right next to my cell. wouldn’t you like to come home to your son everyday?” 

“i haven’t slain civilians in cold blood,” i sat in silence, my eyes darting back and forth between the twi’lek and my father as they argued, “that’s the difference between you and i, jin’aari.”

“at least i didn’t watch my wife die,” jin’aari snarled. 

the words of the twi’lek struck my father, as my dad didn’t banter any more with the prisoner. dan remained silent as my father punched coordinates into our ship’s navigation system, “we’re making an unexpected stop.” 

“i thought we were heading straight towards base-” dan began, but was cut off.

“listen to me, dan.”

dan flinched, but obeyed my father’s order, beginning to land the ship as we descended from the atmosphere. we sat in the ship in a cold silence, the only noise the hum of the engine. jin’aari didn’t make any more snide comments, keeping his lips in a thin line. he could sense my father’s rage as we made contact with the ground. 

“unlock his cell.”

dan pressed the button, his fingers trembling. him and i stayed inside the ship, continuing the streak of silence as my father shoved jin’aari out of the ship, muttering under his breath. pleas began to rise from jin’aari, as you could hear his painful wails. you didn’t hear a single word from my father during the encounter. 

moments later, he returned, letting a bag thump to the floor of our ship. he didn’t have to explain himself. we both were well aware of what occurred outside of the ship. vomit rose from the back of the throat, but my thoughts were egging me to glance over at the it. the beige bag was stained a dark crimson at the bottom. 

inside, was the head of jin’aari, his headtails poking out from the rim of the sack. 

three years prior

 “what assignments do we have today?” i let out an exasperated sigh, sifting through the tracking fobs.

“hopefully something good,” came a grumble.

i turned from the pilot chair, my cheeks burning with shame. my father caught me sitting in his chair, messing around, “i’m sorry dad. i-” 

he chuckled, “don’t apologize for being drawn to the seat, son. you will be the pilot of this fine ship in time. just be patient. you still have a lot to learn in your apprenticeship.”

the thought of becoming a bounty hunter filled my thoughts with dread. although it was in our tradition, i no longer desired the life of killing others. i felt more drawn to the pilots seat, desperately aching to sail through the beauty of space. 

however, the fear of rejection stirred within me whenever i longed to fly. my father only knew how to fly because our ship was our home. endless skye, was our piece of junk, but it was named after my mother, so it held a strange beauty. it was a small cruiser, big enough to host two beds, a holding cell, and adequately sized storage area below the main deck. it had more problems than we could keep track off, but i knew in my heart that he couldn’t part with the ship, even if we got a deal on the best ship in the galaxy. 

the most heartbreaking aspect was that i never got a chance to meet my mother. she passed away when i was four years old, at the hands of a fellow bounty hunter. no one knew the full story of that night, except my father. he refused to talk about it, as the memory was far too painful. he claims that it was a freak accident, as they were in the pursuit of a criminal that night. however, rumors swirled around that the bounty hunter with them turned, killing my mother with a blaster at close range. 

skye was her name, and she was only twenty-five when she died. that’s about all i recollected. of course, there were photos of her on the ship’s control panels, and i often caught my dad glancing at them fondly, his thumb tracing her face on the film. if she was still alive, she would be approximately thirty-six. my dad was forty-six.

it went without saying that my father was extremely restrictive over me. due to the emotional trauma of losing my mother, he didn’t want to lose me too. he kept a close eye on me at all times, and didn’t allow me to create many friendships. besides, we never stayed on one planet for longer than a year. we were constantly up and moving, as there were many criminals and smugglers crawling all over the galaxy. 

the guild my father was involved in was a smaller one, residing on the planet of dandoran. the other well known guild was the bounty hunter’s guild of nevarro, but that was slowly dissolving. many bounty hunters didn’t agree with the code of the guilds, so often times, they went rogue. unfortunately, my father felt that killing hundreds of criminals by the month would try and fill the empty void in his heart. i knew it didn’t help. 

at fifteen, i was undergoing my apprenticeship for the bounty hunter’s guild. having your dad as a mentor was the worst possible scenario. constantly, i was tormented by him rather taught. he also developed a strong taste for alcohol, as he drank it more and more frequently as the years passed on. the alcohol didn’t numb the pain either. 

“hey dad,” i began, spinning around in the copilot seat.

“hmmm?” 

“how would you feel if i changed my career path?” i inquired, my knee bouncing up and down.

“you wanna be affiliated with the private investigators or somethin’?” his eyes stayed focused on the endless vast of space ahead of us, stars whizzing by as we flew towards our destination. 

“not necessarily,” i mumbled, guilt already brewing inside of me.

“speak up, son,” he snorted. 

“i want to be a pilot!” the words tumbled out of my mouth, my voice pitched high with anxiety.

“a pilot?” 

“a pilot,” i repeated, ensuring he heard me correctly, “wasn’t mom a pilot when the two of you met?”

my father’s shoulders tensed up, “she was. however, she abandoned that pursuit when she realized she could be making double the money as a bounty hunter. they pay well, you know. if you wanted to make a decent living, work for the rich. they like to take out anyone who could put their lives in turmoil. they pay well for that, extremely well.”

“but-” 

“no buts,” he countered, “bounty hunting is the route that all men in my family have taken. pilots are for men who are too scared to kill someone.” 

i sucked in a breath, “but i don’t want to kill people, dad.” 

“i don’t care,” he snapped. 

suddenly, our cruiser jolted from the back. my dad cursed, glancing at our radar. behind us, there were three small gunships. from the looks of it, they were from the resistance. they tailed behind us, their guns aimed directly at us. 

“what the…” my dad trailed off. 

“what’s going on?” i sat up in the chair, alarmed. 

“they must have the wrong ship,” he answered, punching in some buttons on the control panel, “or maybe my years of hunting have caught up to me.”

“what do you mean?” my voice was full of panic. 

my dad turned to me, his face grim, “listen, son. when you’ve been in the guild as long as i have, you meet a lot of people. you also kill a lot of people. i may have killed a few resistance fighters back in my day. we must have been spotted on their radars, and they recognize the numbers in their databases.”

“what does this mean then?” 

“it means that i have to face my consequences, son,” his voice faltered slightly, “i have a plan in mind.”

“what’s that entail?” i could sense the waves of fear radiating off my father, as he attempted to remain calm in front of me. 

“you’re going to have to say goodbye to your old man,” tears ran down his face. he forced a smile, trying to remain strong. 

“but,” my lip trembled. 

“it’s no use,” he shook his head, “i’m going to launch myself out of the skye, and you’re going to do a small jump through hyperspace. she’s already programmed to do it to the nearest planet. she’ll guide you coop, i promise. lay low for a bit, probably about a year or so. change your name, and start over.”

“i don’t want to leave you,” i pleaded, sobs forming. 

“you have to,” my father embraced me, “i love you, son. this isn’t your battle to fight. it’s mine. i’ve done a lot of running, and i’m worn down. i’ll be okay. your momma has been waiting for me for a very long time. this has to be done.” 

my legs felt like blobs, my ankles anchored to the floor, “i love you too, dad.”

he gave me one last smile, “you’re going to make me proud, i know you are.”

the tears cascaded down my face as i watched my dad climb down the ladder to the main gate, where he would be jumping out of the endless skye. the gate opened, air circulating through the main deck as he jumped out, his body floating in space. i got one last glance, before the ship went into the jump. 

numbness filled my body as i sat there in silence. now, i was an orphan, with no known family. my father was with my mother now, where i knew he was happiest. the weight of his death weighed on my shoulders, consuming me with grief. 

however, i couldn’t just stop now. i had to keep going, for the sake of my parents. i couldn’t give up. i had to create a new name for myself, where i could grow and be successful, just like the future my dad wished for me. perhaps i could still pursue an education, becoming an engineer or mathematician. 

i landed with a jolt, sending vibrations from my toes to my temple. shakily, i checked the control panel, glancing at the coordinates my dad set for me. sucking in deep breaths, i attempted to stay somewhat calm, but it wasn’t working. the panic of being completely alone was beginning to set in. how was i supposed to survive? 

two years later

“hey!” a voice shouted, “where do you think you’re going, laundry boy?”

i paused, stopping the laundry cart, “i’m going to do the bedding.”

“god,” my bunk mate, vn-892 snorted, “you’re an idiot, sometimes, you know that?” 

“sorry,” i mumbled, my voice quiet. 

“you don’t have to apologize,” vn-892 murmured, “why do you always apologize for everything, bubba?”

“that’s just my nature,” i shrugged.

“i can see that,” he remarked. 

currently, i was a laundry boy for the first order. it was my first assigned duty as a soldier, since i was graduated from their military. i enlisted about a year ago, as i knew it was one of the only ways i could make a living now. the pay wasn’t great, but there was a sense of community within the storm troopers, which gave me hope. 

since the death of my father, i was a wanderer. for months, i wandered from planet to planet, scavenging for food and begging for money. being a teenage boy, it worked, sometimes. however, some were not as kind. 

one night, i was strolling through the streets of a small village, seeing what the town had to offer. propaganda from the first order lined the walls of bazaars and casinos. i knew in my heart as soon as i glimpsed at the posters it was what i had to do. it was my destiny. i visited a recruiting office, stating my case onto why i wished to be enlisted. they welcomed me, taking me immediately. the endless skye was now an abandoned cruiser, sitting to rot in a junkyard. i didn’t want to part from my father’s beloved craft, but i knew it had to be done. 

while i excelled in the education, artillery, and combat aspects of the academy, i lacked when it came to socialization. due to my strict upbringing, i had no real communication skills. often times, i would be made fun of, the other soldiers jeering and prodding me. 

however, my bunkmates were kinder than the rest. one night, i suffered from a horrible nightmare, writhing and screaming in my sleep. the boys woke me up, shaking me out of it. they comforted me while i explained my life story. 

vn-892, tt-654, and uh-235, all shared similar stories to mine. taken from their homes at young ages, they knew nothing of their families, as the first order was their family now. they were given new names, a random code of letters and numbers. we all were like that, some of our memories wiped from us as the first order beat it into our heads that we were important assets of a larger picture. that larger picture, was our endless devotion to our duties, which in turn, provided strength to the first order and dark side.

 yet, we had moments in which we were no longer zombies. there were moments that made us all human. often, we would play card games after completing our daily assignments. or, we would joke with one another in the dining hall, shoving each other playfully. we all had nicknames for one another. due to my soft temperament, i was gifted with the nickname of “bubba.” 

luckily, the first order had no knowledge of who my father was. once enlisting with them, i was placed on a flagship, somewhere in an outer rim. we were in close proximity with the supremacy, which was the main headquarters of the first order itself.  however, once i was training, i heard a variety of stories and tales about legendary angelo valara. it took all of my strength in my being to not unveil my secret. that i, yw-382, was the son of angelo valara, a guild bounty hunter. 

even if the first order tried to rip my memories away from me, i knew i could not erase the image of my father away from my heart. even if he was troubled, he was a good man. all he wanted to pursue was justice, in the honor of his wife, who he lost at the hands of another man. 

“yw-382,” our platoon leader entered the laundry facility, “i need to speak with you.” 

“yes sir,” i nodded respectfully. 

he pulled me out of the room, clearing his throat, “so we may have come across some valuable information in our databases, relating to you.”

“what’s that?” anxiety built up within me, making my hands clam under my gloves.

“that you may be connected to angelo valara,” he paused, “is that correct information?”

there was no use in being dishonest. they would kill me over it, “yes, sir, that is correct.”

“ah,” he sucked in a breath, “i figured that to be true. whilst you were training, i noticed that you were quite the sharpshooter. it must be in your blood. since that is the case, we have an offer for you.”

“i would take it with honor,” i replied, standing straighter. 

“we have an opening with the bounty hunter regiment, at the supremacy,” he explained, “would you like to be within this specialized task force?”

a slight feeling of joy creeped into my body, filling me with happiness. in my heart, i knew that i would be making my father proud. he would have the proudest look on his face me when i gave him the news of my promotion, glimmers of pride in his eyes. 

“i would with honor,” i swallowed, “it would be an honor.” 

“excellent,” he gave me a slight smile, “come, let’s get your materials gathered. you begin your training there tomorrow. you have an assigned partner for this position.”

“oh,” surprise filled my tone.

“he’s the most skilled bounty hunter in the galaxy,” my leader escorted me to the armory, “there is a catch to him. he’s still a teenager, like you.” 

“what’s his code name?” i inquired. 

“yo-988.” 

“when do i meet him?” 

“tomorrow.” 

as i followed my platoon leader into the armory, a gleam caught my attention. i focused in on it, my breath hitching in my throat. 

there were two figures standing, almost transparent against the dark wall of the ship. tears brimmed my eyes. 

we are so proud of you, son. my father’s voice rang in my head, his tone warm with love. shaking my head, the figures disappeared. however, in my heart, i felt satisfied. 

this was my true destiny, and i was going to fulfill it. no matter what was thrown my way.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2 Chapter 20

Your girl, she go hard in the baste Swangin' on them, swangin' on them, swangin' on my ways Swangin' on my ways Swangin' on my ways I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" And I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" (Sound of rain helps me let go of the pain) And I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" (Sound of rain helps me let go of the pain)

Solange—"Sound of Rain"

Ungubani?

Who are you?

I asked this question of myself many times. Often times, I do not know. But I do know I am no longer the man my country knew. Maybe love? My son?

It has all changed me. T'Chaka must see what we can do, how we can change the course of time for the people who struggle so much in this land. Strangers to me, but my brothers and sisters still. How can I look at them, with the same skin as me, stolen from the same place I came from and not reach out to them? How can I sit idly by and watch in pain and return to Wakanda as if there was nothing to see at all?

Who am I?

A war dog who will not leave the lost tribe behind again. Who are you, my son? You will ask this one day and know the answer: N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu.

My son.

###

My woman is in pain. We have been back home for a month since Lia's death, and I am set to leave for Wakanda and I am frightened. As a family, we have gone to three sessions with Dr. Davis. I thank Bast that children have the resilience to bounce back from tragedy. Our son struggles. He has good days and bad days, but most of his bad days come from his worry over Califia.

She is not faring well.

She has lost weight from not eating and she suffers from insomnia. She has taken leave from work and spends days in bed. The most that she allows me to do for her is to hold her at night and look after Erik. She self-medicates with edibles so that Erik won't smell marijuana smoke on her.

Lia's family has planned a private memorial for her, and I do not want Califia or Erik to go. She is furious with me, even though Lia's entire family and her own family agree that she and Erik should stay in the States for now. There are plans for a large public memorial next year. There have been protests and marches throughout Brazil and other parts of the world in solidarity with Lia's memory. Califia's pain and anger and lack of concern for her health make me question whether I can trust her to care for Erik when I am gone. Dante and Nana Jean have made plans to step in for me along with Rolita. Dante questions why I have to leave for a month when Califia needs me and the only thing that saves me from his questioning is that I tell him I must work to cover the bills since Califia isn't working. 

I have been bringing Erik over to my apartment to give him some semblance of a normal home life and to also give Califia privacy when her crying gets bad and she begs me to take our son away so he doesn't have to see her. On those days I call Rolita to watch her, and I make the time alone with my son the best that I can. James hangs with us a lot, and he has been a source of strength when I can't speak to Bakari. Erik is crazy about James, and they spend a lot of time playing video games together and streaming anime.

Erik is asleep in my apartment bedroom and I write this on my couch. Tomorrow we will go home to his mother and I will cook for both of them. I miss my woman so much. I miss touching her in that way. I miss kissing her. I miss her laughter. I miss her being that incredible mother to my son. I miss us.

###

This man Klaue will meet with me in the Netherlands. Sita has found a safe place for us to interact. A place that we can control access to. When I return to Wakanda I will know for sure who I can count on among the war dogs. I will also have to gain all access codes in order to lay my hands on the Vibranium I need. I have someone in place that I have turned who can help me. I just have to keep T'Chaka off of my back. He has been very open about keeping me close to him on this trip home. Zinzi has been cryptic about what's been happening, so I suspect she is being watched carefully too because of our closeness.

My meeting with Klaue has to go off without a hitch because my only chance to see him without surveillance right now is when I fly home. I made sure to choose a flight with a long layover in Northern Europe. I will have six hours to feel this man out. If I can use him, I will. Sita was right about him in one respect; he is a little whore for money. My research on him tells me he is willing to do anything for it.

###

N'Jobu dressed in warm layers and kept his dark glasses on when he entered the small villa in Amsterdam. He made sure to enter the country under an alias and not as Prince N'Jobu so he wouldn't have to bring any Doras with him. Sita came as his personal guard and even though she had secured the property and hired extra protection under her control, she was still wary of Klaue. Klaue was told to come alone and was watched and followed to make sure he did what he was told. N'Jobu gave orders to kill him on site if he did not acquiesce to all of his demands for secrecy. N'Jobu would not reveal his identity to the man. All that he was told was that some goods would need to be secretly couriered out of the country in the future and there was a handsome reward for his services if he should be used.

The semi-detached modern-styled steel and glass villa had plenty of open space surrounding it to give N'Jobu's people eyes on the meeting at all times. Snipers were in position, and if the meeting went left, Klaue would be disposed of and N'Jobu would go home and find someone else to ferry the Vibranium out.

Sitting at a small table facing the main glass entrance, N'Jobu and Sita watched a lone brown Mercedes meander up the winding driveway and park.

A short messy brown-haired man in an ill-fitting suit stepped from the driver's door and scanned the villa. One of Sita's hired hands stepped forward and patted Klaue down while another kept a gun trained on him.

"Great welcome committee!" Klaue shouted out loud enough so that N'Jobu could hear him.

Stepping into the villa, Klaue had a nervous swagger about him that was more bravado and posturing rather than real confidence. The Black faces that stared at him as he stood before N'Jobu had the man second-guessing who he was fucking with.

Klaue smelled of an over-dosing of expensive Italian cologne and poor personal hygiene. His greasy-looking hair and body odor offended N'Jobu. The poor-fitting suit was expensive but not tailor-made and looking at the man from head to toe, the watery light eyes, the liver lips, and a hodge-podge of tattoos on his arms, he could tell the little man was new to expensive tastes. N'Jobu's nose crinkled and he pointed to the chair seated across from him. Klaue sat down.

"Well, I'm here. Let's talk," Klaue said, "Mind if I smoke?"

N'Jobu gave a slight nod.

"I'll take that as a yes then," Klaue said slowly reaching into his suit pocket. He lit up a spicy-smelling thin cigarette.

"Ashtray?" Klaue asked.

Sita placed a glass of water in front of him.

"Wakanda," Klaue said.

N'Jobu stayed silent. This made Klaue even more nervous.

He studied the Afrikaner a little more. The future of his immediate family, Califia and Erik, depended on this thin rat-looking thing sitting before him. The only way N'Jobu could help the Black diaspora was through getting his hands on enough Vibranium to support a world-wide revolution. And the irony of it all was that a racist White South African was going to help jumpstart that revolution. And unbeknownst to Klaue, helping N'Jobu would usher in his own demise, the end of White Supremacy and the end of all of those who supported it, even other Black and non-Black people of color.

Sita stepped forward and handed Klaue a small satchel. The man opened it. His eyes seemed impressed.

"Just for showing up? Twenty-Five thousand in U.S. dollars?" Klaue said.

N'Jobu nodded. When he felt the man was going to burst if he didn't speak soon, N'Jobu folded his hands in his lap.

"Your record is clean. And when things have gone awry, you disappear. I like that."

"He speaks!" Klaue exclaimed, holding his hands up and looking around the room smiling hard. Not one Black face gave him warmth.

"This is just part of a retainer. If I like what I hear, then you will receive another seventy-five thousand to help collect your team within the next year," N'Jobu said.

Klaue leaned forward while listening to N'Jobu's voice. He pointed to N'Jobu's face.

"You're…you're not just some radical. The way you talk…you are a higher up—"

"Who he is, that is not your business. You are here to listen and do what we ask," Sita hissed, moving closer to him, her hand on a gun holstered to her hip.

N'Jobu whispered to her in Wakandan to chill. The three other war dogs in the room along with the three hired hands stepped closer, letting Klaue know to watch his mouth.

"I get the feeling that what I am asked to retrieve aren't just some priceless artifacts," Klaue said, the smile sliding off of his face, "Human trafficking?"

This was the part of the conversation N'Jobu was waiting for. The part he wished he didn't have to divulge, but he had to because even though Vibranium was undetectable to outside modern metal detectors and such, it wasn't stable, and Klaue would have to be shown how to smuggle it out safely.

N'Jobu motioned with his fingers for Sita to bring forth the sample of Vibranium enclosed in a protective capsule.

The luminous electric blue glow mesmerized Klaue's eyes. The man's mouth slipped open.

"Fuck it to hell…" he said standing up when the phosphorescent capsule was placed in his hand, "is this really…is this-?"

"Vibranium," N'Jobu said watching Klaue closely.

"I'm in—"

"We still have to discuss my terms and timetable—" "I don't care! I am in. Whatever your terms or timetable. I already know you will pay me well."

Klaue regarded N'Jobu with gleaming eyes. Sita took the Vibranium from Klaue's fingers and he tracked the luminous glow as she placed it in N'Jobu's hand.

"That small amount right there is worth millions. How much more do you have?" Klaue asked.

"Let us speak about your operation. How quickly can you organize a retraction team?"

Klaue took the hint that he would not be told more about their holdings. It was all need to know moving forward.

"Three to four months tops."

"Understand, I will wipe out you and your people if at any time I suspect chicanery."

"I am a professional. I do thorough background checks on all my people. You've done your homework, I'm sure."

"Talk to me," N'Jobu said leaning back in his seat.

The greasy-haired man in the ill-fitting suit leaned forward, a full smile widening his mouth and showing the glint of cheap gold-rimmed teeth.

"I will tell you all that you want to know," Klaue said.

And he did.

###

On the ride to the airport in the secured SUV, Sita kept staring at N'Jobu's face.

"What do you think, Your Highness?" she asked.

"We should not trust him at all, but he has the juice to get what we need to be done completed."

"Will I see you again on your way back to the States?" she asked.

"Yes. D'Beke will join us and we can begin."

Sita's face looked pleased. She even gave him a smile.

"What is happening at home?"

Sita's smile faded.

"The King….your brother…he has been putting dissenters in jail."

"What?"

"There have been political protests taking place in several Birnans. There's a new spiritualist cult that has had some major growth in followers who have been causing problems. Some protests have become rather violent, and King T'Chaka has taken in leaders and incarcerated them."

"What are they protesting exactly?"

"The lack of democracy in a monarchy. What else? The lack of freedom they have to practice their religion—"

"The Udaku family has never shunned nor stopped religious freedom from marginal religions—"

"Maybe in the past. Maybe when your father was King. But King T'Chaka…he is not so tolerant these days. He claims it is an affront to the crown, a wedge issue to fracture the power of his throne."

"You believe this, Sita? Speak freely."

"I believe what I see, and I have seen even moderate dissenters vilified by your brother."

"But jail-?"

"There was talk that one of the incarcerated planned to assassinate the King."

N'Jobu's body jerked when he heard that. His kimoyo beads heated up and N'Jobu tapped his earbud.

"T'Chaka," N'Jobu said.

Sita remained quiet while he took the call by audio only.

###

Califia carefully flipped over the waffle she made for Erik onto a plate.

"JaJa!"

She heard her son's feet running down the stairs, and by the time he reached the kitchen, she had his plate on the kitchen table next to a glass of grape juice.

"Hot off the griddle," she said.

Erik studied her face and she gave him a healthy smile. His face relaxed and he sat at the table.

She passed him the butter and syrup and helped herself to a piece of sausage. Erik watched her plate.

"Got my appetite back," she said.

He gave her some dimples and she forced herself to eat even though she really didn't want to. She made up her mind to force herself through this pain. She was hurt when N'Jobu told her that he wasn't sure that she could handle their household while he was gone. She counted on him to care for Erik while she fell apart, but it fractured their relationship when he treated her like an irresponsible child. Calling people to watch her and Erik when he left the house. Each time she cried, the look on his face made her feel like he wished she could just get over what happened to Lia quickly so that she could cater to him once more.

Their last night together before he left for Wakanda was pleasant, almost their regular interaction as a family. She worked hard to show him that she was capable of being present for their son. It was also the first time they had sex together since Lia's death, and she only did it to please him, to make him feel like she was okay even when she didn't feel okay. It took her a long time to get self-lubricated, but their kissing took up a lot of time and allowed her body to ease into sex before he could notice that her senses were not in tune with his.

N'Jobu kissed her mouth for a long time before his hands even reached for her breasts or even tried to touch her between her legs. He was so happy and touch-starved for her that his focus was on sections of her. Her lips. Her tongue. Her throat. The tender spots behind her ears. The space between her breasts. Her nipples. Her belly. Her inner thigh and hips.

He kissed and licked her vulva as if it was his first time being down there, and by then, she was wet enough to accommodate his desperate erection. The moans and raspy grunts that fell inside her ear as he pumped in an out of her pleased her. She could still take care of him physically even if she wasn't really there emotionally for him. She opened her legs wide and when she looked up into his face, it was contorted in deep pleasure. His forehead creased tighter and he was exhaling hard pants.

"Califia…Califia…"

Back in Brazil she was depressed, anxious, and scared about his leaving, hungry for any physical contact with him. But now? She was ready for him to leave. She needed to grieve longer without the judgment in his eyes, without him making her feel guilty if she broke down in the middle of the day.

She put her pussy on him thrust for thrust and held his shoulders, her breath coming out faster as she felt him reaching his peak.

"Daddy—"

N'Jobu's lips thrust out when she said that.

"You ready for Daddy to cum?"

"Yeah—"

"Tell Daddy you want him to cum—"

"Jobu—"

"Tell me Califia…baby…tell me…"

He was gasping, twisting her leg to get leverage for more friction.

"…this pussy…" he growled in her ear.

"Yeah," she exhaled.

She could feel the solid fullness that his dick always filled her up with, but she wasn't really feeling anything, not in the way she wanted to but could not reach because of the trauma she was clinging to. She wished she could let go like him. Use sex to get a mental release. Her body wasn't giving her any signs of wanting to orgasm. And N'Jobu's dick was going at her hard as fuck. Their bed was shaking.

She wanted this to end before she started crying in the way that would upset him. She cradled his head and pressed her lips close to his ear.

"Cum in your pussy, Daddy…"

She dragged out the word Daddy so that it sounded reckless and raw and she felt her man seize up tight then thrust his hips into her hard, his voice gone. The swelled pulses coming from his dick only secured the knowledge that a flood of hot semen was coating her insides. She would still be dripping his seed even when he was flying across the Atlantic. And a nut that good to him would only encourage him to seek more.

He kissed her lips and along her neck, and when he pulled out of her, his mouth sought to eat her folds to make her cum. But she pulled him back up and hugged him. Once he realized she didn't want any more sexual contact, he held her tight and rocked her in his arms.

"You okay?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

"I'm fine. I just want to make you feel good."

"Let me take care of you, baby."

"You did," she said playing with the thick ejaculate spilling from her pussy. His eyes watched her fingers and he stroked his dick.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, his voice getting tight from seeing her shove her fingers inside her pussy.

"I'll miss you too," she said.

She played with her pussy lips for him until he lost it.

"Look how you make me nut!" he cried out, shooting cum on her fingers as she held her labia open for him. He had soaked up their sheets with his sweat and cum, but he held her on top of him until he fell asleep. When he was softly snoring, she crawled off of him and showered. Cleaning her body, she let her tears fall with the warm water flowing over her.

Her thoughts snapped back to Erik, and she surprised herself by eating more than she thought she would. Maybe her appetite had finally returned. Maybe she could get it together while N'Jobu was gone.

"We're going to see Grandpop and Nana Jean today," she said.

"Cool," Erik said stuffing his mouth with waffle.

"Baba, leave a voice message yet?" she asked.

"No. He texted that he made it to Atlanta. I missed the call on my phone," he said.

Califia had checked her phone, but nothing was there. He probably thought she was sleeping in again. At least he texted. She knew he was in Amsterdam for a layover. He always sent an email from a burner account when he made it to Wakanda.

Erik was watching her again.

"What?" she asked smiling at him.

"Nothin'. You look happy."

"I am happy."

Erik picked at his plate unsure of something.

"We're going to be okay, baby."

"I know you miss Auntie Lia, Mom. I miss her too."

The sound of her name still hurt and Califia felt her eyes prick with water. She fought to be strong. Their first day alone together and she didn't want her son to feel unsure of her. She crammed a sausage in her mouth and picked up a glass of orange juice.

"Nana wants to know what you want for dinner."

"Pizza—"

"Pizza? Nana said she was cooking and you want pizza? Boy, are you crazy!"

Erik giggled. He drank his juice and pushed back his plate.

"Enchiladas."

"That's better," she said.

After she cleaned up the kitchen, she drove them over to her grandmother's and as they walked up the hill to reach the house, they found Dante inside the garage working on his latest project; restoring a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle, midnight black, a pure brute swinging 450-horsepower battle axe.

Dante was on a roller under the car when they saw him.

"Hey now!" he said.

"Grandpop!" Erik squealed.

Dante rolled out from under the car and picked Erik up. He gave Califia a kiss on her cheek and patted her shoulder.

"Looking good, Cali," he said.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"There's my baby!"

Nana Jean walked out from the front porch.

"Nana, stay up there, we'll come up," Califia said heading toward her grandmother.

Erik ran past her and hugged Nana Jean's waist.

"Dayclean make it okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Califia said.

"Good."

Nana Jean made Erik help her fold laundry while Califia cleaned up the kitchen for her grandmother to make her enchiladas later in the day. Keeping busy with her family kept her mind away from sadness and she felt good. Real good.

She went into the small family room to do some dusting of cobwebs and family photos and her eyes caught sight of an old picture on the fireplace mantle of her and N'Jobu on the porch holding Erik when he was a baby and Califia felt her chest grow tight.

Seeing N'Jobu's face took her breath away and she felt guilty. Guilty for not giving all of herself to him before he left. Not just her body and mind, but her spirit as well. Lia was about moving forward, no matter what, and Califia let herself get stuck because of the rage she still felt. Erik was so adorable as a baby and the memory of that day weighed on her. She had sent that exact picture to Lia and Soliel, and Lia had texted her the moment she received it and told her to raise her son up well and strong.

She pulled her cell from her jean pocket and called N'Jobu's burner phone. The voicemail picked up right away.

"N'Jobu…baby, I miss you. Call me when you make it there…when you can get privacy. We're over at Nana's and everything is good. I just…I want you to know that I'm here. I'm here for our son, and I'm here for myself. I'm here for you. I need to hear your voice, okay?"

She wiped away a tear and smiled, still looking at the picture and his beautiful face. Those gorgeous teeth. Those full lips. The lips he gave their little boy. Those eyes that Erik also had—

Her cell buzzed and she recognized the burner number. She swiped her screen.

"Califia."

His voice made her gasp. Erik walked up next to her.

"Mom…"

"It's Baba," she said, wrapping her arm around Erik's shoulder.

"I'm leaving for Wakanda soon. I'm so glad you called me," he said.

"Babe…I've been so lost since we came home. I know you have tried your best to be understanding. I was stuck—"

"I know, my love, I know—"

"I promise you that you can have faith in me getting through this—"

"If I made you feel—"

"I shut everything out and made you take care of everything. It wasn't right. I'm standing here in Nana's family room and she has the picture of you and me when we first brought Erik here. I saw your face, baby…I saw your face and I forgot that you need me too…"

She could hear his voice shuddering over the phone like she had made him cry. He exhaled hard.

"I love you," he said, his voice soft and full of longing.

"I love you too…hey, quickly, talk to Erik before you have to turn your phone off," she said.

She handed the phone to Erik.

"Baba…yes…yes. I will. Uh, huh. They are fine. I know…I will. I love you too. Okay…"

Erik handed the phone back to Califia. She wiped her eyes with her free hand. Her nose felt runny.

"My love. There are some potential problems back home. My brother has some political dissenters, so I may not be able to speak to you as often as you would like. But don't worry. I will text and email you when I can—"

"You'll be safe right?"

"I will be fine. My brother will need me around him more, and because of that, I won't have a lot of privacy for security reasons."

"Okay," she said. He had confidence in his voice, and she knew that once he was in Wakanda, he would have his Doras with him. And those sistas did not play.

"Tell me you love me again," he said.

"I love you…we both love you very much—"

"Bye, Baba!" Erik yelled into the phone.

"Until I see you both again. Be well, my love."

Her lip trembled a little when he was gone. She looked down at Erik.

"Shall we go help Grandpop with the car?"

Erik nodded. He threw his arms around her waist and pressed his head into her chest.

"Don't worry, Mom. Baba will be back soon."

She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his forehead.

###

For security precautions, N'Jobu was escorted into Wakanda over the border of Canaan inside a military Tusk Fighter aircraft instead of one of the Royal crafts. Once he was flown secretly into the country, he was driven by a super discreet convoy with Ometeko and Yejide by his side. His two faithful Doras were thrilled to see him, but also hyper vigilante in watching over him as they moved through several Birnans to get to the golden one of his birth.

His parents greeted him under the cover of darkness as he was ushered into the palace.

His mother could not stop touching him, exclaiming that he looked a bit worn. Lia's death and his family struggles hovered over him, but speaking to Califia and Erik earlier in the day made him feel confident that he could get through this check-in.

As he walked through the palace and headed up to his brother's private suite, he thought of Califia and how their last night together was so one-sided in affection. He wanted her so bad that night.

After he had put Erik to bed and joined Califia in their bedroom, she was fully naked under the covers. He hadn't seen or felt her nude body in so long that the moment he slipped under the covers and felt her naked thigh and hip touch him, the thickening of his penis didn't take long. When she had allowed him to penetrate her, it felt different. She was going through the motions but he couldn't quite get her to connect with his pleasure. They had always had the ability to create a mesmerizing feedback loop in their intimacy, but that time, it didn't happen. Instead of stopping, he became selfish and took what she gave because he missed her sexually. He needed her body. He needed to feel her tight ring of muscles surrounding his manhood. He needed to feel those big tits and see them bouncing. He needed to feel his semen spurting inside of her, his sack draining weeks of build-up. He let his desire for her override any reason to stop and make sure she matched his vibe.

At that moment, the sex was great for him, but it was like the sex he had while in school; all about the pleasure that his dick got without concerns about love or the other emotional aspects of two humans connecting. They didn't make love. He just fucked her. And he was all about the fucking because he hadn't had it in so long.

But talking to her…hearing her tell him that she would be fine…she made him cry. She made him determined to push forth and plan the best strategy to free them all.

The elevator ride up to T'Chaka's suite felt long, but once he stepped out with Ometeko and Yejide by his side, his dip had returned to his step. His entrance into T'Chaka's private quarters was full of confidence.

"Uncle N'Jobu!"

T'Challa's voice surprised him and when N'Jobu turned to look at his nephew, his eyes grew wide for a second at how much older he looked. The twelve-year-old appeared before him in his royal purple pajamas, his once full head of curly hair cut short and tapered. His voice even sounded different. Clearly, puberty was upon him. N'Jobu's heart ached staring at him. He held out his arms and his nephew ran into them, hugging him hard.

"My nephew! What are you doing up so late?"

"I wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. I have missed you so much, Uncle!"

"Oh! How I have missed you too!"

N'Jobu saw his brother enter the room. No smile on his face. Just worry. And something else. Indignation.

N'Jobu saw another young boy standing off to the side, his big round eyes shyly watching N'Jobu as if he were in awe.

"And who is this?" N'Jobu asked, waving his hand for the child to step forward.

"W'Kabi, stop acting scared. It is only my Uncle. Uncle N'Jobu, this is my best friend, W'Kabi," T'Challa said.

"W'Kabi…W'Kabi? Why do I know your name?" N'Jobu asked. He could see the child wearing a blue night robe with the Border Tribe's dark blue sigil sewn into the collar. A horseman with a fluttering blanket wrapped around the shoulders.

"My father protects the borderlands, Your Highness," the boy said. He bowed his head to N'Jobu.

"Tankiso is his father,' T'Chaka said.

N'Jobu did his best to keep his reaction neutral. He knew the boy's father. Tankiso would be N'Jobu's inside man to help him smuggle the Vibranium out of Wakanda and into Niganda with Klaue when the time came.

"Pleased to meet you, W'Kabi," N'Jobu said. He held out his hand to shake, and W'Kabi stared at T'Challa first and then T'Chaka.

"Do not be foolish, W'Kabi, you can shake my Uncle's hand. He is a Prince like me. Not the King!" T'Challa laughed.

W'Kabi smiled and took N'Jobu's hand. It was a firm handshake and N'Jobu was impressed by the confidence he felt there.

"Alright, boys. Off to bed now. Prince N'Jobu and I must talk," T'Chaka said heading toward his private bar.

"Goodnight, Uncle," T'Challa said hugging N'Jobu once more. W'Kabi bowed and N'Jobu watched the two children leave the suite followed by T'Challa's personal Dora.

"They are like brothers," T'Chaka said handing N'Jobu a small glass of plum liquor.

Brothers.

If Erik were here, he would probably join along with his cousin, the three boys staying up late and giggling, maybe even running around the palace in secret like he and T'Chaka did when they were young boys long ago.

N'Jobu sipped the plum liquor thinking of his son. Erik would wear the silk robes of the Golden Tribe, N'Jobu's family sigil sewn into the collar. He could imagine hearing the sound of Erik's sweet laughter ricocheting off the high walls and ceilings of the Eastern Palace. The soft patter of Califia's feet would probably echo in the halls as she would no doubt be the one to hustle the boys back to bed. For a second, N'Jobu closed his eyes and tried to see her wearing his royal robes and returning to the large bed in his suite down below. He so wanted to make real love to her again. Body and soul together.

"No problems getting into the country, Baby Brother?"

"No," N'Jobu said opening his eyes back up and finishing the plum liquor.

"Sit," T'Chaka said.

N'Jobu padded over to the couch near the expansive window that reflected the twinkling of city lights below.

"Things are not well here."

"I have been made aware," N'Jobu said.

"Your thoughts?"

"I am shocked that the one man you have imprisoned, the one they say tried to plot an assassination…what proof do you really have to keep him incarcerated—"

"Proof? Are you implying that I would just throw someone into confinement just on a whim?"

"From what I have gathered on my own there has only been speculation and flexing—"

"Would you have me wait for outright harm to come to me or to someone in our family first?"

"Of course not—"

"Then why question my rule?"

"Will this man have a trial?"

T'Chaka waved his hand at N'Jobu.

"Enough. No more talk of this. It is not your concern."

T'Chaka poured more plum liquor into his glass and he held up the bottle for N'Jobu.

N'Jobu took the bottle and poured more in his own glass. They both sipped and eyed each other. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," T'Chaka said.

Whoa.

A voluptuous young woman with flashing eyes stepped into the room wearing a long mauve River Tribe styled evening tunic.

"Your Highness," she said, keeping her eyes respectfully downcast when she saw N'Jobu. She was beautiful, her hair tied back allowing her thick braids to fall down her back and N'Jobu knew exactly what she was there for.

"Prince N'Jobu, let us speak more in the morning. Breakfast with Baba and Umama in the sunroom?"

"Yes," N'Jobu said, standing up. He glanced at the woman again and he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over what his brother was playing with at night. He knew for a fact that T'Chaka had several women in rotation for many years. It drove their parents crazy. Umama in particularly hated mistresses being anywhere near the palace, no matter who they were messing around with. Rumor had it that their own father tried to have a young plaything early in his marriage to their mother, but Umama took an ancient knife that allegedly belonged to the very first Black Panther, Bashenga, and threatened to cut off his scrotum and end the entire royal line of Udaku forever if he ever brought another woman into the palace. The fact that he and T'Chaka existed let N'Jobu know that his Baba must've stayed on the straight and narrow. There was no doubt that his mother would kill their father and any woman he had back then or now.

No wonder they wanted T'Chaka married again.

"This is Dineo. She will accompany you to your suite."

N'Jobu's eyes widened.

"A nice homecoming companion for you. It must be tough to find a beauty like this out there," T'Chaka said winking.

Crude. Distasteful. What was this? From his own brother?

Dineo allowed her eyes to rest on N'Jobu's face and he saw her lips part when she got a good look at him.

"Goodnight, T'Chaka," N'Jobu said putting his drink glass on the bar and leaving the room. Dineo followed him and Yejide followed them both.

When N'Jobu reached the private elevator, he turned to her.

"I do not need you," he whispered discreetly so Yejide didn't hear. Not that she didn't already know what Dineo was there for.

"I must accompany you to your suite regardless. The King has demanded this. Please, do not cause me trouble, Your Highness."

Dineo rode the elevator with him down to his suite.

When they reached the outside of his quarters, Ometeko looked shocked to see Dineo at his heels.

"Do not ask," he said to Ometeko as he swept into his space.

Dineo was right behind him when the doors swung shut.

"I am here. You can leave," he said, surprised that the woman even stepped into his private sphere.

Dineo fingered her braids and then allowed her long lashes to flutter as she placed her gaze fully on his face, all pretense of deference gone. She wanted to be there with him. Gently tugging on the clasps that held her tunic closed, the loose clothing dropped to her feet.

Shit.

Her nipples stood at attention as she played with them, and all those curves that the tunic hinted at earlier were more than true once fully revealed.

"I am here for you, Your Highness," she whispered.

"I understand that, however—"

"I hear you are known to make women cry when you make love to them, Your Highness."

He hadn't had sex with a woman in Wakanda for almost a decade.

"Dineo—"

"I have heard all the stories from here to Azania about you. I want you to make me cry," she said stepping toward him.

If this were another time, he would be all over this girl and rearranging her insides. But he had a woman at home that knocked him off of his feet, even five thousand miles away.

He turned his back on her and headed to his bedroom.

"Do not make me have you escorted out, Dineo," he tossed over his shoulder as he pressed his kimoyo beads opening his suite's front doors.

"Your Highness," Ometeko called into the space without entering.

"Please see to it that Dineo makes it back to her own home," N'Jobu said before slamming his bedroom door shut.

###

"N'Jobu."

His body relaxed when he saw Califia's face on his computer.

She was snug in their bed inside their townhouse.

"Erik is still asleep. Do you want me to wake him?"

"No, let him sleep. I sent him a recorded video for him to see when he wakes."

"How are things?"

"I'm still feeling things out. My brother is dealing with some political dissenters, some policy changes...blah, blah, blah." He tried to make things sound mundane to comfort her.

"You're not tired? You should be exhausted."

"I am," he said.

"It's raining here," she said, "a good clean rain. Everything smells so good outside."

"You sound well, my love."

"It's the rain. It makes me feel brand new. But it's not the same without you here to enjoy it with me."

She sat up in bed and he saw that she was nude.

"Baby, really? You know I'm on the other side of the world and you sit up there onscreen with those beautiful tits teasing me?"

She fondled her nipples for him.

"You're killing me over here," he said.

She really was, he felt his cock fatten in his pants.

"Let me really put you six feet under then," she said, peeling back the covers, showing him already plump glistening folds.

"Were you playing with yourself?"

"Mmmhmmm, right before you called," she sighed, her fingers plying her labia open.

"Fuck…Califia…"

N'Jobu groaned loud in his room and yanked down his pants.

Three fingers deep, Califia fingerfucked herself for him as he damn near stroked all the skin off of his dick.

When she came calling his name while staring at him, her legs spread wide, he shot thick ropes of his own cum onto his chest. He fell asleep to the sound of the rain falling on their skylight and her fingers playing with her clit ring, her voice softly telling him she loved him.

It was a blissful rest.

Chapter 21 HERE.

[mama-mercyyyy]

Hello, hi, yes I’m alive.

Yes I know this was posted before the game was even out I’m pretty sure, and I hope they have changed their viewpoint on this now, but I’m still going to rant about this.

tl;dr at the end. This is quite the rant I have.

First of all, “doing women better?” Most of their games are targeted at male players, of course they’re going to make their female characters sexy af. I, a female, don’t want to look at “ugly” or “normal” females. I want them to look very nice as well. And, as for the male characters, none of them are fat. They are short, tall, a literal gorilla, etc. but none of them are fat, except Roadhog, but there’s also a chubby female, Mei, so it balances out. All of the males, almost, are pretty sexy and muscular as well, but I don’t hear anyone complaining about that. I want to look at good looking characters. Not just average normal people.

Oh boo-hoo 5 out of 12. That is perfectly fine, and I don’t know for sure, but I think Blizzard has kept the male:female ratio pretty close to half and half so this point gets thrown out the window.

And I also want to make this clear. ALL FEMALES HAVE BOOBS. AND GUYS LIKE THEM. VIDEO GAMES HAVE BEEN TARGETED AT MALES FOR A VERY LONG TIME NOW. I didn’t know if some people realized this.

The fact that this author just assumed that the female characters are uninteresting is pretty sexist in of its self, don’t you think? But seriously, I doubt that they even looked into any of their backstories if they didn’t even bother looking up their names. I don’t have anything to say. Anyone who knows the game know they all have some pretty sick backstories, or hopefully will get just even a backstory at all *cough* Zen *cough cough* Mercy *cough*

I think it’s so dumb to complain how all the women are so slim when they are basically in the military. Mercy is a combat medic, Tracer is in the field all the time, Widow is an agile sniper, and Pharah is a literal soldier. They cannot be overweight. They will not be able to keep up. I know I’m going to get called “fatphobic” for this but it’s the truth. I can understand putting more muscle on some of them, but not making them chubby or fat.

Again complaining about boobs and thighs being shown to a male dominated market. Sorry but that just what guys have always liked. All the way back to the very beginning of the human race.

Let’s skip all the way to where they redesign the characters to be “better.” They have no idea about anything in this game so I’m going to skip over the fact that McCree is as American as anyone can get and that Torb is as Swedish as anyone can get, and that they want to make Winston a female, and get right into the juicy stuff. Is Mercy’s waist impossibly small? Yes. Do I care? No. It’s art. Oh also, “Mercy is an angel character with blonde hair. Which. NO. We’ve been over this. Always having angels be blond is some creepy white supremacy bullshit, okay?” Okay, what? How? Why? Should I read the article they linked about this? I think yes. I will do that now.

It explained nothing to me. How surprising. Anyway, fat Widowmaker. Just no. It makes no sense. She is a sniper. She cannot be overweight. She needs to be agile and quick. Like all of the other women in military like roles. Quick explanation for that one, let’s move on. The author is so upset about Sym not wearing pants. MAYBE SHE DOESN’T WANT TO WEAR PANTS. WHO EVER WANTS TO WEAR PANTS? ONLY PSYCHOPATHS I’M PRETTY SURE. Ahem, moving on.

Lastly, the author liked mostly everything about Tracer EXCEPT the fact that on her statue Blizzard sells you can see her butt. Oh no. Scary I know.

tl;dr This article is pretty pathetic. The author is obviously grabbing at straws to get mad at Blizzard, as it seems they have a vendetta against them. All of her points fall apart with a tiny bit of research, to which the author basically admits to not caring enough to do, and common sense. Blizzard is not sexist and has done nothing wrong in the sense of their female characters in Overwatch. Gameplay is another topic though.

No hate toward the author, though I hope they changed their mindset towards some things by now, 3 years later. I know it might seem like I got heated in this rant, I did a bit, but it’s not toward the author or anyone who feels the same. I disagree with you, but that doesn’t mean we need to yell or get angry at each other. We can have a calm discussion if you’d like, as long as we can both talk like mature human beings. Feel free to tell me why I’m wrong!

Thank you for making it this far and watching me get frustrated about characters in a video game. I hope I didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings too bad, but it’s all in good fun, I don’t mean anything that would have hurt your feelings, it’s nothing personal towards anyone but the words on the page. :)

More art hopefully coming soon!

[flourchildwrites]

Ooooh, I saw Havolina on the tags :D :D :D 66 and 77.

A/N:  Thank you for the ask, @lessonsfrommadamexmas !  You requested numbers 66 (it’s not you, it’s my enemies) and 77 (in vino veritas) with a havolina ship.  I will admit, 66 was a tough concept for me.  I had to sleep on it, and I hope you’ll like what I came up with.  And since I’m a “show, don’t tell” kinda gal, I’ll just write a little bit out for you.  I may have gone a little overboard…  This earns a solid “M” rating.

Please keep in mind I know very little about Call of Duty and video game tournaments in general.  Forgive the inaccuracies and suspend your disbelief as this fic will focus on what happens around the tournament as opposed to the gameplay itself.

Read on AO3

“This is bullshit, and you know it!” Rebecca screeched.  With furrowed brows and nostrils flaring, she stared down Roy Mustang, captain of the front runner team in the Call of Duty tournament.  How dare he try to poach Riza, Rebecca’s actual friend, her teammate and the best damn sniper in the amateur bracket, right under Rebecca’s nose!  She wouldn’t have it, and that pretty boy had another thing coming to him if he thought she’d let Riza go on her merry way without a fight.

“This isn’t poaching.  It’s a couple after dinner drinks, Becks,” Roy said with amused exasperation.  “Riza’s not my mark.  She’s my girlfriend.”  As if to make some salient point - that Rebecca was completely uninterested in, the dark-haired man slipped an arm around Riza.  His fingers stretched, seeking purchase on her slender waist as he pulled the blonde closer, too close.  In the darkness of the hotel bar, Rebecca’s equally dark eyes flashed dangerously.

“She’s not your girlfriend during this competition,” Rebecca lectured.  To drive her point home, she brandished her pointer finger in Roy’s direction and thrust it toward the center of his chest.  “While both our teams are in the running, she is an important member of the East City Strikers, and this year we will see you in the finals.”

“Enough,” Riza interjected.  Ever the picture of poise under pressure, she wiggled out of Roy’s arms and grasped Rebecca’s bicep, leading her down the long granite bar.  When Riza began to speak again, her voice was just above a whisper.  

“You two got off on the wrong foot, I admit; however, Roy has been nothing but friendly toward you since we started dating,” Riza stressed, “Also - I say this with a lot of love - you are starting to sound like a deranged lunatic.  This is just a game.”  

“No, it’s a 500,000 cenz grand prize,” Rebecca retorted defensively, not caring to control the volume of her voice.  “You promised there would be no fraternization during the tournament.”

Riza rolled her eyes and sighed, heavily.  “The tournament starts tomorrow morning.  After the opening ceremony I will be 100% committed to the East City Strikers, but tonight-” Riza paused; she glanced over her shoulder in Roy’s direction, gazing at her insufferable boyfriend with a pair of soft eyes that she wore only for him.  “I’m going to have a few drinks with my boyfriend.  And before you ask, yes, I intend to spend the night with him.  And furthermore, because we are not in kindergarten, you are going to back off and act like an adult about it.  Okay?”

Becca crossed her arms with an agitated huff, barely able to meet Riza’s pointed look.  She hated Roy and all of Team Mustang.  She hated that, after the East City Strikers’ crushing defeat in the semifinals last year, Roy had gone to great lengths to talk to Riza, inexplicably seduce her and then, just to add insult to injury, ask her to be his girlfriend.  The very notion of this grievous injustice gnawed at Rebecca’s pride.  For as certain as the sun would rise, she believed it to be a long con to ensure Team Mustang’s supremacy at the tournament this year.

“Fine,” Rebecca muttered.

She watched Riza cross the glitzy hotel bar, hand in hand with the competition and did the only thing a well-adjusted hardcore competitor with a grudge to maintain could do.  She ordered another pinot noir and told the bartender to leave the bottle.

…

One by one, the other members of the East City Strikers attempted to lighten Becca’s mood, except for Olivier who suggested they turn in early for the evening to leave Rebecca alone with her anger management issues.  Sheska followed Olivier’s lead, hopping to the tune of her command like a pup adhering to its master’s will.  Maria stuck around the bar for a few more minutes to offer Rebecca a few well-worded pieces of advice.

“When Olivier tells you to lighten up, it’s time to rethink your strategy, my friend,” Maria opined, knocking back the rest of her cosmo.  “Ri is a smart girl.  She knows how to compartmentalize.”

Rebecca took another sip of the dark wine that matched her lipstick to a tee.  “I care too much, Maria,” she explain.  “Unless everyone’s plans change, this will be the East City Strikers’ last tournament.  I want to go out at the top of our game.”

“Then just play the best you can,” Maria stated matter-of-factly like it was a simple thing to do.  “If the best we can do is to get beat in the semifinals again by the team that goes on to win it, I’m satisfied.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s why you’re team captain, and I’m just your average first-person shooter enthusiast.  Ri brings the deadly accuracy, Sheska’s got that crazy agility, Olivier gets us the little real life luxuries that keep us sane, but you have the fire.  You inspire us to go up against the boys every year and spank ‘em until they beg for their mama. We’ve come a long way from East City, Becks.  We couldn’t have gotten here without you.”

With a flushed face, Rebecca grinned, comforted by her teammate’s thoughtful perspective.  “And what would you say you do for us?”

Maria sat back from the bar and smirked in a way that crinkled the beauty mark under her eye.  “I give the good advice, and my advice for you tonight is to take advantage of the fact that your roommate isn’t coming back.”

…

Rebecca struggled to take Maria’s words of wisdom to heart, but the emptier her bottle of wine became, the easier it was to let her guard drop.  Her taste buds drowned in the tart tang of cranberry with hints of tobacco.   Her competitive glare grew blurry around the edges as the pop music funneled in through the speakers went straight to her hips.  As the time ticked by, the hotel bar became flush with men of all models and makes, but like a hunter taking stock of the available prey, Rebecca waited patiently for signs of intelligent life.

As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one on the prowl.

“Hey, you’re Catalina, right?”

Rebecca swiveled on her barstool to better view the owner of the husky, baritone voice.  The sight that met her was definitely easy on her eyes.  The fair-haired stranger’s frame was muscular, especially his well-defined arms which extended from the unseasonable short sleeves of a black graphic tee.  Rebecca’s eyes flitted over his figure in a flirtatious manner as she swirled the wine in her glass and finally met his blue stare.

“Maybe” she shot right back at him.  “Who’s asking?”

The young man chuckled lightly under his breath and shuffled his feet.  “I’m really no good at this am I?” he said, scratching the back of his head in a way that flexed his chest muscles through the flimsy cotton.  “My name’s Jean.  I couldn’t help but notice that your friends left a little while ago, and seeing as mine ditched me too, I was wondering if you’d like some company.”

Rebecca’s head tilted to the side as she fought the urge to bite her bottom lip.  She patted the seat next to her casually, inviting Jean to sit.  “You’ve got me at a disadvantage, Jean,” she said, relishing the way his name rolled off her tongue.  “I’m Catalina, though I prefer Rebecca.  Have we met before?”

“No,” he replied, sliding onto the stool.  “Not formally, anyway.  I’ve seen you play a few times, and I’ve always meant to talk to you.  I remember your name Catalina_the_wine_mixer.  It’s unique, a Step Brothers reference, right?”

Rebecca groaned playfully, covering her forehead with her free hand.  “It is,” she admitted sheepishly.  “The name sounded so cool when I first started playing, and after my first tournament, it stuck.  I’d change it if I could, but you know… name recognition means something.”

“Tell me about it,” Jean sympathized.  “Between this year and last, I found my way to the gym and kicked a few bad habits.”  Jean scratched at the nicotine patch peeking out the sleeve of his shirt.  “Now, it’s like I’m a complete stranger.”

“So what’s your screen name?” she asked with genuine interest.

“TheJeanMachine.”

Rebecca laughed so hard snorted.  “Don’t take that the wrong way.  It’s cute and… a little familiar.”

“Oh, I agree.  It’s terrible, but I can’t change it now,” he stated.

“Why not?  Name recognition?”

“Because it made you smile.”

Rebecca Catalina was smitten.  Between the gregarious crinkle framing Jean’s baby blue eyes, his adorable country accent and their witty banter, she’d never stood a chance.  All things considered, Rebecca thought it was nothing short of kismet that their paths had crossed on this, the calm before the storm.  The one and only time she’d ever dared to let her hair down at the tournament.

“Maybe I’m too hard on my team,” Becca mused, allowing maudlin emotion to taint her giddy buzz.  “We haven’t made it official, but this is probably going to be The East City Strikers’ last year.  Riza, our sniper, is good enough to go pro if she wanted to, but the rest of us… We’ll have to give this up and focus on boring, practical careers when we graduate.  Except for Olivier, the scary one.  She’d be the first to tell you that her trust fund lets her do whatever the hell she wants.”

“Your sniper’s good,” Jean admitted, “but she’s got competition.  That sniper from Team Mustang, for example.  I think he’s pretty good.  You ever heard of that team?  I think they won the amateur bracket last year.”

“They did,” Rebecca confirmed.  “I know of Team Mustang.  I mean, I don’t know any other them personally, except their captain, Roy…  He’s dating Riza.  We lost to them in the semifinals last year, and one of those guys tried to congratulate me after, but I blew him off.”  Rebecca frowned at the memory. “I- I’m not a gracious loser.  I called him scrawny and said he reeked of cigarettes.  It was terrible of me.”

“Everyone has their bad days,” Jean said.  “And, come to think of it, you weren’t wrong on either account.  But let’s talk about something else.  You said you weren’t good enough to be a pro.  Why?  I’ve seen you rack up crazy amounts of points.  Low on deaths and high on kills every single time.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca offered.  Suddenly, she wished she could place his username and compliment Jean on his gameplay in return, but the gears in her mind wouldn’t turn properly, influence by red wine and those blue, blue eyes.  “My record’s good, but I’m not twitchy enough. You know?”

Jean smirked.  The expression that flashed across his face made her toes curl.  “Don’t be so sure,” he said low and slow, “with the right technique, I bet you’d be very twitchy.”

Any other day, Rebecca would have rolled her eyes and walked away.  But her empty hotel room beckoned and Maria’s advice ricocheted through her mind.  Becca told herself that she deserved nice things from time to time.  She needed to let loose, and Jean seemed nice, respectful even.  If he wasn’t she’d ask Olivier to kick his pretty boy ass all the way back to his family’s rural grocery store.

“Wanna show me your technique?” she chanced flirtatiously.  “It just so happens my roommate’s not coming back tonight.  I’d like to see your moves.”

“What a coincidence,” Jean responded.  He slid from the stool and stood.  His head ducked downward to capture Rebecca’s plump lips in a searing kiss.  “I’d like to show them to you.”

…

It was a great day to be alive.  The sun was shining.  The birds were singing, and Rebecca’s morning mountain dew tasted like victory.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Riza observed, popping a piece of fresh fruit into her mouth.

Becca didn’t deny it.  TheJeanMachine had certainly lived up to his name.  And if her uncharacteristic good mood didn’t give away the fact that she had gotten laid the night before, the trail of hickeys on her neck and chest, artfully concealed by one of Olivier’s vintage Hermes scarves, would have cleared up any lingering confusion.

“Wonder why that is,” Maria quipped with a playful nudge.  Even the stoic Olivier grinned at Rebecca over the brim her morning cup of Earl Grey. Sheska giggled scandalously as she polished off her turkey bacon.

“Alright ladies,” Rebecca declared.  She straightened her custom team jersey, and stood, ready to tackle the day.  “I checked the brackets this morning.  Our first game is in the Shambala conference room against The Ishvalan Supremecy.  They’re good, especially that Scar guy, but we’ve got this!  Let’s get there early and get a feel for the room.”

“Can we stop by the Aruego room first?” Riza asked hopefully.  “Roy’s team is playing there in a few minutes, and I’d just like to wave hello.”

“Sure.  Why not,” Rebecca merely shrugged to the collective astonishment of the East City Strikers.  “We can scope out the competition.”

The quintet of gamers made their way through the crowded hotel lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor.  There, on the Aruego stage, Riza spotted Team Mustang, decked out in dark blue shirts opposite another formidable team dressed in black from head to toe, the Briggs Bears. A small audience had already gathered.  Starry-eyed fans and fierce competitors sat in between the two teams, gazing up at a huge monitor that showcased the player’s screens and scores.

It was easy to get lost in the sea of old and new faces, but Rebecca focused in on Team Mustang with a confident smirk.  Roy and the rest of his boys were going down, and Rebecca only hoped that the East City Strikers would be the ones to finally knock them off their pedestal.  Sure, the Briggs Bears were also good, but Miles2Go’s reaction time was notoriously wanting, and that wasn’t even considering…

A familiar face caught Rebecca’s eyes, sending a shockwave along the length of her spine.  Rebecca craned her neck, shifting in the crowd to get a better view of an unfamiliar face amongst Team Mustang.  And when, finally, she saw the fair hair and toned muscles of the man she’d spent the night with wearing Team Mustang blue, Becca’s temper flared.  The name… That familiar name… TheJeanMachine.  The puzzle pieces sickeningly fell into place in a way that made her stomach drop.

“Oh, is that blond guy new?” asked a nearby girl with equally blonde hair.

Her companion, a short boy with a braided ponytail and a sophisticated automail arm scoffed.  “Shows how much you know, Winry,” he said.  “That’s Jean Havoc.  Team Mustang’s sniper.  He’s been with them from the start but went on a health kick after last year.  Stopped smoking like a chimney and put on some muscle.”

“I bet he drinks his milk,” Winry responded, albeit under her breath.

Rebecca didn’t want to hear another word.  She tore from the room, breath coming hard and fast as she weaved through the crowd.  Last year’s events flashed before her eyes enhanced by adrenaline, caffeine and the early morning light.  Jean had been the guy who tried to talk to her last year, and he’d most certainly known that last night when they’d…

“Ugghhhh!” Rebecca exclaimed, overcome with anger and ashamed of her impulsive behavior.  The young woman was so wrapped up in her internal conflict that she didn’t hear her teammate approach from behind.  Rebecca shrieked as she felt the pressure of Sheska’s hand on her shoulder.

“Good gracious, Becks,” Sheska said, straightening her glasses.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.  Are you alright?”

Rebecca looked back at her bespectacled teammate with a cold gleam in her dark eyes.  She vowed to get her revenge on Team Mustang at all costs.  “It’s not you,” she said intently, narrowed eyes darting to the screen now prominently displaying TheJeanMachine in his element.  “It’s my enemies.”

Like what you read?  Send me a FANFICTION TROPE MASH UP ask. 

[merc-soup]

sniper with long hair supremacy 🙏✨

asniper,, so fun 2 draw all the time ever

[aion-rsa]

Clarice Episode 2 Review: Ghosts of Highway 20

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This Clarice review contains spoilers.

Clarice Episode 2

Clarice episode 2, “Ghosts of Highway 20,” takes the series further from The Silence of the Lambs, and deeper into federal cop procedural territory. FBI Agent Clarice Starling (Rebecca Breeds) went rogue at the end of the debut episode, “breaking the chain of command” and telling the press that an apprehended suspect just might not be a serial killer, but part of something larger. Now she is waiting for repercussions.

Clarice is already doing penance as the episode opens, counting off pushups to metal music. Pushups are a military punishment for rookie infractions and, back in the ‘90s, heavy metal music was blasted at hostile prisoners of war. To further distance themselves, the VICAP squad gets deployed to Tennessee. Starling’s superior officer, Deputy Assistant Attorney General Paul Krendler (Michael Cudlitz), only called her up there to keep an eye on her.

This is not a serial killer situation. The leader Lucas Novak is “a standard-issue country gentleman, described as charismatic.” What started off as a “hillbilly rehab clinic” turned into a fringe militia group. Someone shot an “ATF agent, who is in stable condition, but they’re now in the middle of a standoff and don’t want another Waco, that was a cluster.” He doesn’t finish the word and that’s part of the problem of having something like this on network TV.

Regardless of the source material, any new ground which gets broken does it within such tight constraints. It’s not only the restrictions of words or offensive images, but the cookie cutter timelines of a network procedural. Cable procedurals get to cut a little deeper, but they’re usually as guilty. This is why shows like Mindhunter truly made waves. They break the formula, and throw off the timing, which makes the inherent suspense more effective and mysteries more unexpected.

Of course, we can expect rogue cops to do the unexpected. No sooner than the self-proclaimed knuckle-dragging agent in charge of Starling, Murray Clarke (Nick Sandow), tells her she shouldn’t be in the FBI, she goes running off following a flashback-inducing kid. It’s part of her MO. It is almost a running gag. A few moments after this, Agent Thomas Esquivel (Lucca De Oliveira) tells her she’s got to prove people can trust her, when she disappears from his viewfinder and stops calling on her walky-talky. It feels like they’re just giving her signposts on the road to rogue status.

Read more

TV

Clarice: How Does The Show Compare to Hannibal?

By Gabriel Bergmoser

In episode 1 it was established that Clarice is now a celebrity cop, having solved the “Buffalo Bill” case at great cost to herself. A lot of the agents are on record as thinking her high visibility is a drawback. Krendler greets her at the beginning of the episode by saying he’s putting her up for transfer because she clipped a federal case and drew attention to herself. “You’re Clarice Starling,” an FBI sniper says. “You’re all over the news. It’s a power play.” It’s almost a given that the “charismatic” militia leader Novak will only talk to the female agent the kid saw while she should have been out of sight. The same agent Novak saw on TV. As Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade might mockingly say in The Maltese Falcon, “This should put you in solid with your boss.”

Clarice is obviously answering to a higher authority, as much as this is exactly the thing pissing off her FBI co-combatants. Not only does she agree to walk into the backwoods fortress, but she goes in ready for her closeup. She’s pegged Novak as a narcissist, and it reflects well on her. On top of this, the attorney General also shows up bringing national media attention to a local matter which no one would otherwise care about.

The show does have a way with settings, however. I don’t think I’ve ever seen creepier string beans than the ones strung up like tiny corpses inside the Statesmen’s headquarters. While I admit that’s an overstatement, the first time the beads appear they look like they’re framing a crime scene, rather than one to come. Novak does his best to live up to the charismatic reputation, cooing at the agent while he softens her skin with lotions, trying to pick at her southern brain as well as its left hemisphere.

The battlefield on the series is on the turf of psychological warfare, which is a familiar minefield for Starling. She dodges verbal bullets from her bureau-ordered therapist; ducks hair-triggered PTSD bombs; and dances around territorial alpha male supremacy shrapnel. If anyone’s going to find a hidden den of sex slaves and a statewide clique of authorities with blackmail fetishes, it’s going to be Agent Starling. She’s also going to find the narcissist’s weak spot, the prime suspect’s blind spot, and the elusive shooter. She has a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time.

The acting is top notch all around, but the main character only really connects with the weekly villain. When Clarice drops seconds before a decisive sniper shot, it gives closure to the earlier conversation about trust. But the trust between characters is broken moments later when politicians protect their own. Clarice frames it as if they’re borrowing against the future, but it is complicity, and ultimately broadcast copaganda. Bad cops can be trusted to resign when they’re caught, no need for trials. Everyone’s got a thing for daddy, and the most prominent father figure is a long-dead cop, who died doing his duty.

“Ghosts of Highway 20” adds to the mystique of Agent Starling because she is once again proven right in all the wrong ways. The episode’s suspense is amplified by the subtle sexual subtext, but dampened by the contrived structure. Clarice still hasn’t proven whether Clarice is brilliant or lucky, and we can be sure she’s going to have to start at square one again on the next case.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Clarice airs Thursdays at 10:00 p.m. on CBS.

The post Clarice Episode 2 Review: Ghosts of Highway 20 appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[dyermcmillan22-blog]

Flash Games - العاب فلاش

Flash Games - العاب فلاش Inexpensive Fun For The Entire Family! Play Free Games Online! ###WP Post Summary To upgrade will run you $200.00. In the event you have a money crunch or the next wind storm is inclement then even going out is almost impossible. How regarding a game in which you get to kiss Attacking young boys? ###WP Post Body Entering the world of Friv online games means that you are walking into a portal for the best in mark flash games on the internet. There is a category for everyone no matter how young or old, boy or girl. You cannot go wrong when you are looking to join forces with your favorite superhero such as Spiderman or when you have the need for speed and you want to race with Mario. Perhaps you would like to play with Scooby doo or you want to play the Pizza Match Kissing game. It is all here under one roof. Games have been around to help lay off the steam, for a very long time, and with the manifold improvements in computer graphics they have been gaining popularity more and more so. Free online games have grown to be a part of everyone's life. Providing a quick way to relief without the requirements of costly hardware these games are gaining popularity every day. Most of these games are simple flash games that could indulge you for hours if they could. To play free games is not just for amusement but they also prove beneficial for your brain. Every time you visit العاب chobigames.com you might find yourself overwhelmed by flash games information. Some might say that it is best to play outdoors but to play free games online for a controlled time is not bad for your health. Make time slots for online games along with outdoor activities. Luring potential customers is the best way to get website traffic. However, in order to lure them, you need to have an excellent teaser of sorts. Studies have found that offering people a freebie for opting in produce the best results. You knowe, Close-Up Photo is a trend in girls life. They all like to make many different impressions in her face. Today Alina will go to take close-up photos, pls choose the template which you like best and make up her here. And you can also take close-up photos by camera. Enjoy yourself in the funny girls games ! well , when you enter into the game , you will find it's really funny and what's more , it is similar with our life . Besides , you can upload your own pics then place them on the ablum . so girls , try this game and maybe you can make a photo with your friends in the ablum .wow , have fun in the funny girls games ! Gamevance has 4 or more tournaments every day, and they are all simple arcade style games. You will have 24 hours to play all the tournament games, and if you have the highest score at the end of the tournament, you win a prize. Easy as 1, 2, 3, you play free games, get the top score for one of the tournament games, and then you win. There is no limit on how many prizes you can win, some people have won more than 5 prizes, there is one rule, if you do win, you will have to waite 45 days to be able to win another prize, that not a bad rule, I can wait 45 days to have another free chance to win another prize. Allegiance - If you want to experience some science fiction, then this is the game for you. The game is set in space in which your mission is to win battles against your opponents by destroying allegiances and gain supremacy in the galaxy. You can play with other players because it supports multiplayer option. In order to win this game, you need strategy and teamwork from your allies. 3-D Swat: In 3-D Swat, you get to pretend that you are a Swat team member. You will get to test how sharp your shooting skills are by shooting at all targets that come into your view. You are learning to become a sniper with a hair trigger response. Your training involves you shooting at card-board cuts outs that will be shooting at you as well. Cuts outs can camouflage themselves into the background, so be careful. It will take you about to reload, so pick your times wisely. The mouse controls your gun. There are a few clever ways to survive long drives with your kids. Use your imagination, and try to remember what you would like to when you were their age. If you can get them to like vacation trips as much as you do, you will all be a happy family on the go! ###WP Post Keywords finally, start

[everythingididididforher]

Here is Ruslan's bio! Linking it bc its long but I'll also post it under.

Name: Ruslan Kuznetsov

Race: Awoken (born in Distributary)

Age: How long has it been since the collapse?

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Relationship Status: Depends on the point in the story

Hair color: Blonde

Eye color: Blue

Skin color: Purple Awoken boi

Other features: He has a baby face, despite being alive for a LONG time, people commonly assume he is a lot younger than he looks. This often causes him to get babied or for people to tell him he can't do things. (Similar to being 50 buy still be carded for alcohol)

Fave food: Burritos (like his father lmao)

Fave weapons: Scout rifles, shot guns, trace rifles. He becomes good at Snipers after moving to the tower but before then he's bad at them. (He may or may not still use the supremacy he got from Jolyon [he does])

Fun fact:

×He has a really good memory

×He would be a warlock if he were to become a guardian

PERSONALITY:

Ruslan is a sweet boy and shy when it comes to love. He is used to having people take care of him but begins to wish he could be allowed to take care of himself. He grows more and more frustrated with the way people treat him due to his baby face, occasionally resulting in him yelling because of how frequent and annoying it gets. Aside from those instances he is kind and always willing/wanting to help out where he can. He forms attachments quickly and cares deeply about those close to him.

BACKSTORY:

Ruslan Kuznetsov was born in the Distributary shortly after the collapse. His mother was Pherhaa Kuznetsov and his father, who died in the collapse before he was born, was Ruslan Bykov.

He was raised primarily by his mother with some intermittent help from Uldren Sov - who had been friends with Pherhaa even before the collapse and was one of the reasons the woman boarded the Exodus Green in the first place. Thanks to Uldren's help in raising Ruslan, the boy referred to him as his uncle although there was no blood relations.

Ruslan's life in the Distributary was uneventful — as uneventful as one's life could be when you knew Uldren Sov — and he passed his time peacefully, growing into an adult as they stayed there.

As he got older and more allowed to roam without supervision he would met his friend group, Ejex Thel, Leazaa Thel and Thaya Zash. (And one more Awoken who hasn't been created /yet/). They became fast friends, spending a lot of their free time together.

It wasn't even much of a decision when they left the Distributary. Of course he and his mother were going to follow Mara and Uldren. Ruslan honestly just wanted to go where his family went. Especially considering he really only had one blood family member. He wanted to go where his mom went.

Again, things went well — as well as they explored and looked for a new place to live. That is, up until the Reef Wars when he lost his mother. Ruslan was devastated, moving in with Uldren as he hadn't truly lived on his own despite how long he had been alive.

Due to just how devastated Ruslan was, Uldren would seek out Pherhaa the moment he found out she got revived and break the guardians rule, telling her about her past life and her son.

Ruslan cried when he saw her again, running up and hugging her even though logic told him she wouldn't remember him. It was still so good to see her regardless.

Ruslan fell for Uldren's best friend, Jolyon Till, the moment he sees him. (Due to there not being enough Jolyon lore I don't know exactly when this happens but I do know he and Pherhaa met before she died). He never said anything or made any moves, respecting whatever it was that the two of them had (and being too shy to say anything).

After the two of them go to the Black Garden, Uldren stopped being as responsive as he used to, focusing only on the Black Garden and essentially forgetting about Ruslan and Jolyon. At this point, Ruslan worked up the courage to approach Jolyon and asked him to help train him. Now that Uldren wasn't as aware as usual he couldn't trust him to be able to protect him.

As they trained together, Ruslan became an official Crow and they got closer to each other. Eventually the topic of Uldren was brought up and Ruslan admitted that it was hard continuing to live with the Prince when he wasn't as present as he used to be. At this point Jolyon offered for Ruslan to move in with him and he agreed.

As they spent even more time together they got closer and closer until Jolyon fell for Ruslan and they got together. 👀

Once The Guardian (My Fiancée's warlock, Vasili) appeared asking about the Black Garden, Uldren started to be like his old self again, leading Ruslan, Jolyon, Vasili and Uldren to hang out.

These were more of the good days. Ruslan had his mother back, in the form of a guardian, and his uncle back. Eventually he learned that Vasili was actually Pherhaa's brother, making Vasili his uncle. He was ecstatic to learn this but Vasili made an even bigger connection — one that was confirmed by Uldren — Vasili's best friend, a titan by the name of Thor, was Ruslan's father.

Now the 'kid' had his mom and dad, and two uncles. Although Uldren refused to admit it, Vasili made the connection that Uldren called himself Ruslan's uncle not because of Pherhaa but because of his connection with Vasili in their lives before the collapse.

This peace did not last long enough, with Uldren's 'death' during the battle with the Taken King, taking a hard toll on Ruslan. He went to Jolyon, receiving comfort from the other as he mourned the only person who had been with him since his birth.

When Jolyon and Petra took Uldren and brought him into the Prison of Elders, no one told Ruslan. Jolyon thought it would be best to not tell him, to save him from having to have Uldren look him straight in the eyes and not recognize him. Jolyon made sure to never lie - never saying Uldren was or wasn't dead and just holding him whenever he was sad.

After the events of Forsaken, news of Uldren's true death and previous whereabouts reached Ruslan thanks to Vasili and he was /pissed/ when he found out that Jolyon had known.

They got into an argument that resulted in Ruslan leaving, stating that he couldn't trust him and that he would spend every moment paranoid that the other was keeping something from him & he wouldn't know without asking the right questions.

After gathering his basics, he called his mom to pick him up and moved back in with his parents.

He spent months upset over what happened, but because he received tons of support and love from his family and friends he slowly healed.

Once he was more functional he started to work security in the tower, helping to ensure that no one could sneak in or get in without proper clearance. After a year or two he manages to get himself a small apartment in the city, living by himself for the first time in his thousand years of life. This was a big change but one he was ready for. It was nice to not be treated like a child anymore.

He eventually gets with my fiancée's oc (the additional friend in his friend group) but he hasn't been made yet-

Since I posted the pics of 3 of my awoken ocs here I figured I may as well post their bios too 👀 I don't have much for them tbh but

The first one is Ejex Thel! Ejex is the older brother of Leazaa. They are both reef born.

I haven't decided quiet when they are born but it's definitely a little while before Uldren goes to the black garden because I want them to know Ruslan before Uldren goes to the black garden—

Ejex is a creative soul who loves making things with clay most of all. From poetry to small scale statues to clay bowls and the like he enjoys all of that.

Often he makes fairly decent pieces but his perfectionism causes him to be overly critical and judgemental of the things he creates. He gets upset easily when he doesn't make something that is exactly as he imagined it.

His perfectionism sometimes spreads to other people, in that he expects them to strive for perfection like he does. That being said instead of saying something, he usually does his best to Repress it. Occasionally he fails but usually he manages to just make a face at the most.

Though if someone says or does something he doesn't agree with he will say something.

He struggles with decisions, and gets anxious if something isn't decided so he always ends up just choosing something at random. At least then if it's a bad decision it's okay because he didn't put thought into it then chose the wrong thing.

He wants to be able to be independent. (But clearly struggles bc of his perfectionism and his issues with decisions)

The second one, the female with black hair is Leazaa Thel! Leazaa is the younger sister of Ejex.

Like mentioned in Ejex's bio I haven't decided an exact birthdate yet, just that they were born before Uldren goes to the black garden and they meet Ruslan before that as well. (I made these beans to be a part of Ruslan's friend group)

Leazaa is a lot sweeter than her older brother. She grew up hearing him be overly critical about his work and so she would combat that by always complimenting his work and telling him how it's good, even when he focuses on how it could be better.

She has always wanted to find a group she belonged in. She loves her brother and loves spending time with him but she wants a group they can both be in - this she achieves with the friend group they have with Ruslan.

She is always kind, thinking of other's before all else. She loves helping others and doing what's right but will do something considered wrong is its to help or to protect her friends.

Leazaa loves nature and the things that comes with it and will often want to hike or camp.

She wants to have a balanced life and wants to be loved (not necessarily a romantic love).

She is typically calm in a crisis, looking for solutions rather than freaking out.

The third one is Thaya Zash! Thaya was born in the distributary approximately 10 years before they left and she was among those that left the distrubatsry.

When she heard that Uldren Sov found aliens she was elated and excited, despite also hearing about his injuries. She also wanted to make an amazing discovery and has since then loved to explore and try to find new things.

She's an extrovert and a people person but she's also not very good with commitment. She prefers her adventures to having a relationship, even if she were to like someone it might not work well because she isn't good with long distance.

She's a very determined person, most of her determination goes towards her adventures, specifically she wants to find a way in and out of the distrubatary since she was born there but barely remembers anything about it. Expecially because she has heard stories about it and wants to see everything again.

She's not good with housekeeping, like cleaning or tidying up but she loves to cook.

She can be impatient at times, doesn't like waiting on someone for too long because there are other things she could be doing but she does understand whenever anyone takes a while to talk with her again. She's used to taking long trips and not talking to the people she is close to so she isn't bothered when someone does something similar.

She can also be indecisive.

At this point of telling salsa (my fiancee) about Thaya she pointed out that's she's basically a hunter and wish is 100% right, Thaya would be a hunter if she were to become a gaurdian.

[She is also a part of the friend group with ruslan]